The Shadow Of Roses
by Lady Elusive
Summary: "M-m-my daughter?" My father's cry of shock and despair was choked by the sharp, deadly stare of the masked man, whose demonic golden eyes demanded nothing more than what he had come to take as his own. "I advise you to comply, Monsieur Arturi. You would have to be a very foolish man to disobey and accept the consequences otherwise."-Mix of Leroux, ALW and Beauty Beast
1. Chapter 1 The Visitor

The mansion in which she and her parents once called home is shaking and crumbling at its foundations. Dark days are ever present, and the threat of poverty is hanging over their heads

_**By day my skin turned silver in the sun light. **_

_**By night I was chased by ghosts and angels all at once, all at the same time. I could not see which was which. **_

_**And then…there was him. **_

_**The one that burdened my heart. **_

_**Love?**_

_**Or hate?**_

_**All at once, all at the same time. **_

_**I could not see. **_

I lifted my eyes from my book to look across the room at my father, curled beside the bed, speaking softly to my mother in his native Italian. I felt as if I was intruding, though mama never spoke a syllable of love in return to him. I moved my gaze back to my page, firelight rippling over my face and dappling over my skin.

I was dressed in my favourite gown, a gorgeous dress of a deep purple that inspired the colour of lavender and my namesake. Its overskirt was ruffled, and the sleeves slid gracefully off my shoulders. This dress had been tailored for dancing and grand balls, not for an occasion as sombre as this. Yet, my father had insisted, saying that my mama would be so proud and happy to see me all dressed up. I had become so _beautiful_.

Mother's eyes remained locked shut, her once pristine, china like skin, sallow and murky green as pond weed. She had lost most of her hair, and still, just like every day…she lay in bed, stolen away from the outside world, trapped inside her own body.

She could not know if her daughter had become even the slightest bit pretty, she had not seen me for centuries, it seemed.

Maria had been kind and sweet enough to bake a cake, though this was expensive enough in our current affairs, and the silver was draining steadily into the gutter.

My fingers found my fork again at the thought, and slid a fragment of birthday cake into my mouth.

It was delicious.

"Leave a little bit for me, my darling," Papa called over softly from the bed. His aged, wrinkled face squeezed in his wide, teasing smile, like a concertina or an accordion.

"Certainly not papa," I replied, and shovelling another bit in my mouth, in a way that wasn't at all ladylike.

His lips bubbled out a chuckle and he touched mama's forehead with a fatigued and tender hand.

I let my gentle smile stay for as long as I could, then plunged myself back inside the perfect, kind and forgiving passages in which I treasured now more than ever. This new heroine: Edith Burnette, lived in the depths of the wild and passionate city of Paris. The capital that was now hours upon hours away from us, an entirely different world. Edith is plagued with suitors and a new romantic dilemma at every turn. She despaired over it. I _envied her_.

"You cannot put that book aside." Father chuckled with good humour, speaking again after a time.

"Is it your new favourite?"

"Impossible," I answered, smiling for him again.

"Come," He waved his hand imperiously for me to join him beside mama.

"Sit next to your mama, and show her how lovely you have become."

I did so, placing my book carefully upon the little Chippendale table, sweeping my magnificent skirts.

"A princess!" My father announced, when I had seated in my own chair opposite him on the other side of the bed.

"Thank you," I made a little bow.

Papa wheezed out a laugh, his expression becoming distant as he gazed upon me.

"_Extraordinary."_

Sometimes, Father would become lost in the shadows he saw on my mother's cheekbones. He would become detached too, and leave me behind. I constantly feared for him, perhaps even more than mother, I couldn't lose him too.

It was perhaps ten seconds after this had occurred, when it happened.

I felt a scorching chill sweep over every piece of exposed skin I had not covered with my gloves or gown. Hairs stood up prick by prick on the back of my neck, painfully, and horribly. I gripped at the ruffles of my skirt, Goosebumps popping up all over my arms, and gazed wildly around, desperately looking for the draught that had surely just entered the room.

But there was no open window or door to be seen.

I swallowed hard, finding a strange sensation gnaw at the back of my throat, and freeze the insides of my body.

I hastily tried to cover myself with a nearby blanket, hoping to crush the sensation at once.

But nothing changed. The chill brushed and scratched me with its unbearable chill, I felt as if it was touching me, inspecting every part of me. Even the parts that were not visible to the human eye.

"W-w-what I-I-is that?" I stammered through chattering teeth

My father raised his head.

"What is what my dear?"

"T-t-that….c-c-chill?"

My father frowned, eyes still lost in my mother's condition. Then as he slowly came back to the ground, his face inexorably shifted and melted into the same shivers and alarm that I felt.

"Cold…" He mumbled, rubbing at his aged shoulders

His brow wrinkled as his pupils moved towards the tightly shut door.

"Why is it so cold?"

There was a brief pause.

Then we heard a faraway pattering of feet up the flight of stairs outside. Father and I listened to the echoing footfalls: they were rushed, scampering…full of undeniable haste. Several times we heard a few bumps and whimpers, and realised that the sprinter had fallen several times on their way up the stairs in their rush.

The footsteps at last reached the door, and there was a great hammering at it.

"Josette?" I inquired aloud, concerned

"May I enter Monsieur…Mademoiselle?"

I exchanged a quick glance with Papa.

Never had we heard Josette so fearful and horrified, since the day mother had fainted in the dining room.

"Yes…"

_**No! Stay away! We cannot have any more bad news!**_

Josette, our poor maid, tumbled through the door. She was quite a sight to behold, her apron and the fringes of her skirt was ripped and torn, her hair dishevelled and her brow rung with sweat, But it was her eyes that frightened me the most.

"A gentleman has come, monsieur," She whispered, face parched of colour

"He wishes-"

She took a great gulp

"D-d-demands to see you."

Father stared at her, almost fascinated by her fear

"Is-"

He took a deep breath and began again

"Has he come for the money?"

But even as he said this, everyone knew that the person downstairs…whoever he was…had not come for another unpaid bill.

Father chewed at his bottom lip, his eyes flickering between his wife and Josette.

"I can take care of mama," I reached over to clasp his hand

"She will be safe with me."

Father seemed to struggle, then sighed.

"Very well."

He rose and walked to the door

"Stay with my daughter," He instructed Josette, before passing

"Do not leave her, or my wife's side while I am attending to… this…_gentleman_."

Josette started, then began twisting her apron wildly in her fingers.

"What is it?" Father paused

"Was there something else?"

Josette's eyes swivelled to me, and within them I saw what I had felt when the chill came.

_**Dreaded fear. **_

I gazed back at her, then felt a jolt resound through me.

"He wanted to see me…too?"

Josette plunged her face into her apron.

My eyes widened

"W-w-why?" I whispered, my heart falling into the pit of my stomach

Josette staggered across the room, collapsed by my mother's beside, and sobbed.

For the first time, I saw the true chill sweep over Papa's face.

He looked at me.

I looked back.

The silent conversation between our eyes was enough.

I slowly stood and joined him at the door.

"Do not move from behind me Violet," My father told me quietly

"My sword is the only weapon we have now."

I nodded shakily.

We moved out from the doorframe, and began to move down the enormous twisting staircase, attempting to make as little noise as possible. Father leading ahead, his hand curled around the hilt of the sword at his belt, myself holding my enormous skirts a little above my ankles, thankful that my papa had his back turned.

"A mere suitor, would not have made Josette cry that much." I said softly as we turned a sharp corner

"No…" My father replied, in a very shadowed voice

"No he would not have..."

We crept through the dimly lit corridors of our house, until we came to the grand stair case that would lead us out into the entrance hall, were we had been told our visitor would be waiting.

Papa and I let out a long breath.

I wound my fingers into his and squeezed.

He squeezed back.

"We are the masters of our mansion," I whispered to him, staring at him straight in the eye, trying to summon more bravery than I felt.

"He cannot push us out."

Father's neck convulsed as he swallowed and nodded.

"That may be true, but I cannot let you come past here. Once I know what his business is, then we shall see."

"But papa-"

"Your safety is my only priority." He cut across me.

"What about yours?" I whimpered, refusing to let go of his hands

He did not answer.

"Stay here my darling. Come only if I call."

I relented miserably.

"_Be careful," _

He jerked his head, drew himself up, then slipped from my fingers and marched down the great stairs.

I crouched down beneath the wall, listening intently to his footsteps down the steps. I craned to hear any sound from the mysterious stranger into our home, but there was nothing.

"Monsieur," My father called out, somewhere about half way down the stairs

"I hope I have not kept you waiting. There is not as many of our fine staff as there used to be."

"I noticed."

The voice that answered him was the chill that had spread across her mother's chamber. Thick spider webs frozen under the moon at night. Clearer and sharper than an octave.

His words seemed to echo about the hall a long time after he had spoken them.

"My sincerest apologies." Papa said as warmly as he could

"Can I offer you a beverage of some kind? You seem weary. Have you come a long w-"

"That won't be necessary, thank you."

There was a small silence. The footsteps on the stairs had stopped.

I trembled under the pillar, my hands clutching around the pendent my parents had given me for my last birthday.

"What…is your business, then, monsieur? I am rather confused at why you have come here, and at such a late hour at night...if you have come for money. I'm afraid you will be disappointed."

"Gold is not in my interest. And I come rather…to supply it. Not to take it."

I quirked an eyebrow, and inched towards the edge of the wall.

"Supply it?" My father blustered

"Yes." The gentleman answered, seemingly almost bored.

"I have heard that you need money to pay off the hounds that relentlessly torture you and your family for debt."

Here he paused, perhaps for delicacy.

"And the tragic misfortune that has struck the centre of your lives."

I could feel my poor, beautiful papa crumbling

"My Rosa…" He said hoarsely

"Yes."

"Your mansion is falling apart and fading to dust before our very eyes. You have no more generous friends, or any relations to speak of."

My fists clenched around the pendent.

"I can make this all vanish instantly. Money problems. Vanquished. Disrepair of your house, gone. And your wife-"

There was a creak of the bottom most step, and I saw in my mind, the stranger moving close, stepping forward to trap my father in his snare. His voice lowered, curling with persuasive smoke

"I can cure her."

There were several creaks backwards on the stairs, disguising the clap of my hand going over my mouth and my insides lurching.

Of all the doctors that had come forward, all the medical professionals and fools we had spent our entire fortunes on…this stranger thought he could revive my mother from her death like sleep and cure her?

"_Liar."_ I hissed into my fingers.

"I am no liar, nor am I a magician of _that kind_…"

The gentleman trailed his voice as coldly and softly as a child would with a stick in a puddle, right to my ears.

"-Monsieur."

_**He heard me?!**_

Curiosity was slowly tugging at my core, but I refused to reveal myself, especially now that I was sure that this man of shadows had heard me from his position all the way down fifty long stairs.

"What could you possibly want in return for all of that? An incredible gift such as that, I have nothing to repay you with!" Papa stuttered

I felt the smirk, even from my hiding place.

"Ah, now. My dear monsieur that is where you are wrong."

_Ice_…I felt ice on my neck.

Slowly, as if under a spell, I twisted my body round to peep around the pillar and look down the grand staircase at the man standing before the very last step.

Golden eyes, under a wide rimmed hat, gazed back up at me. And I knew that he had known all along that I was hiding there.

"What I want…Monsieur Arturi. Is _**her**__._"


	2. Chapter 2 Not Exactly a Request

Chapter 2

Not Exactly a Request.

**Phantom is not mine**. **If he was do you think I'd be here? *slowly puts on shades***

**And my goodness! Thank you so much to everyone who has stopped by! I wrote chapter 1 and went to bed thinking mmm I think I'll change it a little tomorrow. But lo and behold! I come home to all these new followers and reviews (You sweethearts!) Well, here is the next part, enjoy!**

**Note: Mixing Leroux with the ALW appearance. **

Looking upon a person such as him for the first time, was an experience I shall never forget. In the feeble, yet tender glow that was illuminated from our candelabras in the hall, he cast a long shadow that did not seem to bring in any light at all…not even allow it or consider it. He was dressed in darkness, from his sweeping black cloak to his fedora. The only colour that sliced his gothic appearance apart, was the most intriguing and mysterious thing of all. A white mask on the right side of his face, paler than the wax on our melting candles, splitting his face in two. _Ghostly_, a single moon in his swarthy sky.

I slowly stood from my humble position beneath the wall, brushing down my skirts in an involuntary act of trying to appear presentable.

My father turned to look upon me at the top of the stairs, and the stranger removed his hat and made a stiff incline of the head, revealing ink coloured hair.

"My child-"Papa's fingers fiddled on the hilt of his sword again

"Perhaps you should-"

His eyes flashed backwards and forwards between the strange masked man and me

"Perhaps you should go to the-"

"I see no reason why she should not hear what I have to say." The Gentleman severed my father's feverish stuttering in a cold instant.

"After all, she has heard every single word I have spoken so far,"

I lifted an inch of my layered skirt and began to descend down the flight of stairs towards them, sliding my other hand on the comforting crooked old bannisters. I lifted my chin as I walked, keeping my eyes trained calmly on the masked stranger, but found it difficult as he in turn had not turned his eyes away from me once.

"You wish to court her?" My father said uncertainly, giving the stranger's mask a brief, sidelong glance.

"And offer a proposal?"

I did my best not to swallow as I reached my father's side. And the closer I had drawn near, the colder the air had become.

"Forgive me monsieur, but we do not know who you are-"

The Gentleman's thin lips twitched. I guessed perhaps in amusement. He finally removed his golden eyes from me, and I silently let out a breath I did not know I had been holding.

"I go by many names. Not all of which are kind. But the one I hold truly as my own, is _Erik Destler_."

"_**Erik…"**_

"And where is your estate?" Papa questioned, still anxious and hardened with suspicion

Monsieur Destler rested an elbow on the aging banister, quite at ease, and placed his hat at a perfect angle at top the round faded globe on the end.

"I own 500 acres, consisting of a lake, a forest, and of course my fine house. This is three hours carriage drive from your own establishment. I also own a palace of sorts in Paris-"

Here his lips curled in a dark smirk, and I fought the urge to clutch at my father's arm.

"And a mere modest house six days journey from Paris. Which I hardly ever venture to, as it is of the least importance."

He glanced at me again. I felt like a shy child being forced to greet a peculiar and unfriendly relative.

"Your daughter will have everything she asks for Monsieur Artir. Be it a pony, or a piece of priceless jewellery…_she will have it_."

He slid his unblinking stare back to my father again

"She will live in unlimited luxury for the rest of her life. I assure you."

My father chewed his lips, struggling.

"How do I know that I can trust your word, Monsieur Destler?" He frowned

"I cannot hand my only daughter…_my precious child_ over to you without-"

"But you will." Erik replied simply

We both solidified into stone.

He gazed at our shocked expressions with the upmost indifference, his arched eyebrow contrasting with the blank white of his mask.

"_You will_ monsieur, because I have everything you need."

His golden eyes darkened

"_And my word is law."_

He snapped his fingers, jolting us both out of our skin.

At once four servants dressed in gold and deep red livery burst through the front doors, and rushed across the floor to us. They carried an enormous trunk between them.

"What is this?" Papa demanded

"You cannot just-!"

The servants placed the trunk by Monsieur Destler's right foot. Erik bent and extracted a tiny golden key from an unseen pocket in his cloak, fixed it into the trunk's lock and twisted it. The lid slowly lifted open to reveal piles upon piles of shining gold. I let out a gasp, the gold glowed so brightly it made my eyes smart.

"My God…" Papa whispered,

"Twenty-five thousand francs….and there are three more trunks awaiting instruction." Erik rose composedly

My father snapped out of it, pulling me close.

"And my wife?" He probed, narrowing his eyes

Erik slipped his hand into his pocket, and brought out a lavender coloured herb of some kind. He laid it out in his gloved palm for us to see.

"Mix this in with her broth. And she will begin to recover. I have heard it said from Persian doctors that the very scent is enough to revive a corpse."

Papa flinched and I glared viciously.

"It will cure her," Erik said again, ignoring our scowls

"_**My word is law."**_

I moved forward, and reached out to take the herb, but Erik swept it out from my desperate grasp and folded it carefully back into his pocket.

I lifted my eyes to his, and we locked each other in a cold, hardened stare.

Those eyes were unlike anything I had ever imagined, in books or perhaps even in dreams.

"You will come with me." He spoke softly, but it was like a tiger's purring growl

"Or your family will perish."

I felt myself falling, whether into the ground, or into those bottomless eyes of icy gold, I could not tell.

"_**No." **_My father snarled

We both turned.

Erik's eyebrow lifted.

"I beg your pardon?" He inquired, though it was a voice of pure ice.

Papa swept me away from Erik before I could make any movement.

"Papa!" I protested

I flew from his shield and faced him straight in the eye

"Violet!"

"Papa! Do you hear yourself?"

His eyes widened

"Excuse us," I said to Monsieur Destler without glancing at him

I pulled Papa away from the stairs, across the hall and into the next room. As soon as the door snapped shut behind us, my father broke.

"Violet! This man….is…is-"

He floundered

"There is something about him. The devil is inside him!"

"Keep your voice down papa, he can hear us and-"

"Do you expect me to let a madman take my only daughter away from me?"

"He is eccentric father, I must admit but-"

"I felt as if I was speaking to death himself!"

"He has offered us more gold than we ever hoped for, and mama's health!"

I straightened myself up as best I could

"And my financial protection."

"He never said he would marry you!" Papa snarled

"Not one word of it moved from his lips! And what is a respectable man like me meant to think when a-a-a-a _freak_ like this enters our home?"

"Papa please!" I implored, nearly sobbing in my wretchedness, I was sure I could hear Erik beginning to pace outside.

"I will never see you alive again, my darling." He too was almost weeping

"The only light left in my life…_gone._"

"You are talking nonsense!" I snapped firmly, though my mind was wandering back to the chill that blasted from Erik Destler…the darkness that hung over him, _and those eyes_…._those strange, cold golden eyes. _So frightening…and so mysterious all at the same time. But this was our chance. Beggars could not be choosers.

I placed my hands on my father's cheeks

"We have no choice."

We stood there in the empty silence, listening to the truth I had spoken at last.

"I am afraid too…Papa. But this must be done. I am doing this for you and mama_. I will go with him_."

The door abruptly opened behind us with a rusty creak and I whirled round, skirts swirling with me.

Erik stood there with his hat in hand, irritation plain in his visible features.

"In my opinion it is the lady's voice that matters most in this conversation," He said delicately

"And we have wasted enough time."

He jerked his head, and the four servants jogged into the room, carrying the trunk again. More followed, each set carrying a trunk and soon there were sixteen servants inside.

Erik snapped his fingers, and they all laid the trunks down in unison with an enormous thump. Their master then turned to the nearest servant and said

"Take this herb to the house cook and command her to make the brew I instructed you on earlier. Say that the master of the mansion decreed it for the Madam's recovery and cure."

_It happened so unbelievably quickly. _

My father lurched forward protectively, and Erik immediately clicked his fingers, at once four of the sixteen servants had shoved father back against the wall to restrain him.

"PAPA!" I shrieked, furious and horrified, flying forward to save him. But before I could go three steps another set of servants threw themselves upon me and restrained me too in turn. I yelled and Father bellowed in outrage and began struggling ferociously to free himself.

Erik sighed heavily. Then flicked open a pocket watch he possessed to look upon the time.

"We should have set out at least half an hour ago."

He clicked the lid back over its face and tucked it back into one of his many pockets.

"Come, Violet." He said, addressing me by name for the first time

"We have a long journey ahead of us."

He swept round and strode through the door

"How dare you!" I snarled at Erik's back, trying to wrench myself from the servant's iron clutches

"Unhand me at once! How dare you!"

"Let her go at once!" Papa roared

"I will have you hung!"

Erik paused for a moment, turned his head and smiled pityingly at my poor papa

"I would very much enjoy your attempt."

The servants shoved me forward and frogmarched me out of the room while I screamed and kicked, my lungs filled with the horror of my freedom slithering before my very eyes.

_**What had I done?**_

_**What on earth had I agreed to do?**_

Erik stood aside, and watched them drag me to the front door.

"M-m-my daughter?" My father's cry of shock and despair was choked by the sharp, deadly stare of the masked man, whose demonic golden eyes demanded nothing more than what he had come to take as his own.

"I did advise you to comply, Monsieur Arturi. You really would have to have been a very foolish man to disobey and accept the consequences otherwise."

"MONSTER!" My father shrieked

"MADMAN! MURDERER!"

"Tie him up," Erik told one of the servants calmly

"He has quite over excited himself."

"_NO!" _I screamed, twisting fiercely from side to side in attempt to free myself.

Erik glanced at me. Sighed again, then ordered to my guards:

"Take Mademoiselle Violet to the carriage. See that she is comfortable, and does not attempt to hurt herself."

"**NO! WAIT!"**

The servants heaved me out of the front door with brutal force, and out into the night that was thick, overwhelming and pouring with rain. I shook all over as this new cold plunged my body and senses in shock, and through the rain, I could distinctly see a thorn black carriage waiting for me with four, hell like horses.

"Please, please, please let me go!" I wept, begging my jailers, but they were immune to my cries, and my tears melted and mingled with the lashing rain.

One of the members of my fortification snatched at the carriage door and flung it open

"_**My papa!"**_ I whimpered

"Please! Listen to _me_ and not your master!"

I continued to fight, but my strength was ebbing away from me and I felt my limbs becoming stiff from the beat of the weather. My skirts were drenched, my beautiful dress slowly becoming ruined. My hair stuck to my scalp, quickly becoming wet tails and sodden strands. I was helpless against the slave dogs' might. And at last, they succeeded, and pushed me into the carriage. I stumbled, hit my head on the roof and collapsed into the corner.

The curtains on the window were shunted across either side, and I was left with only a small lantern opposite me on one of the plush seats, as my only source of light and comfort.

But I refused to let this be my fate yet. I staggered up and rattled at the door handles, my shoulders shuddering:

"Please!"

I wrenched and tugged but the servants refused to let the doors budge a single inch.

I thumped and hammered at it with my fists, my head now aching with the amount of tears I had shed, my face practically smouldering.

"P-please." My voice trailed and croaked away into nothing, and slowly I leaned forward under the weight that was crushing me, I placed my head against the door and let the pain course over me.

Perhaps fifteen seconds passed.

Then I heard a crunch outside.

Then a click.

I launched myself backwards into the corner of the carriage, arms wrapped round myself, trying to make myself as small as possible.

Erik quietly shut the door behind him and looked down at me from his great height.

I stared back, hearing the gentle drip, drip, of the rain water from my clothes slowly flooding across the carriage floor.

In those golden eyes, I thought I saw a quivering shake. A flicker of _something._ Then it was gone.

He stretched his arms up into the compartments above us, and brought down two thick blankets.

"Here," He muttered, kneeling down to my level to give them to me.

I cringed away from him, twisting my head to the side.

"You will catch your death of cold," He told me severely, tossing the blanket into my lap and sitting down on one of the plush seats on my right.

I gazed woodenly at him, glanced down at the blanket, then allowing my eyes to dart once again towards the doors.

"Do not even consider it." Erik's voice hissed in my ears dismissively, making me jolt and squeeze into a ball.

"One of my men will come after you and bring you back."

"You think they frighten me?" I said as boldly as I could

Those golden eyes snapped over to me,

"If you attempt to jump out of the carriage while it is moving, then _I will come after you __**myself**_**.**"

I pulled the blankets up to my eyes, my heart bleeding and pounding in my throat.

Erik turned away and rapped on the front carriage wall, everything rumbled into life at once, the horses' hooves thundering, taking me away.

I wriggled round, climbed onto the seat and looked desperately out of the tiny box window, at the old pillared mansion that was gliding away before my very eyes.

_**My home**_**. **

I reached a shaking clawed like hand after it as we zoomed down the road, my entire soul ripped and torn, screeching with agony and grief.

Erik watched me with something that looked like disdain

"Cease that at once," He commanded harshly

"That is no longer your home."

I ground my teeth together, fury rising over my fear and misery.

"_And you believe that I will have one with you?"_ I whispered

Erik was silent.

Then-

"You should attempt to rest, it will be after dawn when we arrive."

I turned around again, then shifted my weight until I had buried myself in the corner. I tugged the blankets up over me as I far as I could stretch, shivering and shuddering. Moonlight spilled from under the gap in the curtains, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

"_I will not sleep_. _Never. Not tonight, nor tomorrow. Nor any night to come in future. I will lie with my eyes wide open, until hell has taken you back to the fires where you belong." _


	3. Chapter 3 A Palace Can Also be a Prison

Chapter 3

A Palace can also be a prison

**Phantom is still not mine. Mwhahaha. **

****Another Enormous thank you for how many awesome reviews I'm getting. I honestly did not expect this much pouring in, and so many of you clamouring for more! *Bows low* you are all too kind! Xxx It is lucky that I have had a lot of time to write and update, (and your reviews only encourage that!) but once more I will say **_**that I might have to disappear at any time **_**and go back to haunting my own opera house. (And do work ****L****J****) I will write whenever I can, but still, thank you for sticking around. ****

_I was walking through the gardens at home, my fingers scudding gently through the slithers of overgrown grass. I did this so much during the summer, and missed it now that winter had come with shocking speed and closed me indoors. Mist swirled around me, concealing everything around me. I could only see something when it had blown forward to stand in front of me._

_But I found this comforting. _

_The mist protected me, wrapping its cool vapours around me with gentle kindness. _

_I turned a corner, my lips filled with a song that trailed through the rock pools of my memory. The mists parted a little, and I saw my parents, waiting for me with smiles on their faces by our favourite fountain. Mother's face was whole and healthy, her golden hair regrown, and her laughter dancing back in her eyes. Father's face was no longer aged with grief and suffering, but painted young again with joy. Summer wreathes hung around the necks, the kind the village children would wear for festivals. And more Flowers bloomed from the crumbling cracks in the stone spring. Bright colours of yellow, peach and turquoise. My lips broke in a smile to see this perfect vision, happy tears pooling in my eyes. _

"_Isn't it perfect?" I laughed, turning away from the pretty flowers to look at my parents. _

_Their smiles stayed. _

_But their eyes never moved. _

_The wreathes were red. _

_Their necks were coated in blood._

"**NO! PLEASE! NO!"**

The nightmares smashed into oblivion as something shook me awake.

"_Violet!"_

I opened my eyes.

Erik was sitting opposite me, leaning forward slightly to touch my hand.

Clearly the nightmare had not ended.

I wrenched my hand away, my heart choking my lungs.

"**DON'T TOUCH ME!"**

Erik drew back at once, eyes widening.

"It was only a dream," He said, trying to sound soothing

"Was it?" I whispered hoarsely, my chest rising and falling

"If it was only a dream, then why am I still here?"

There was a very long pause.

"I feared you would be ill," Erik's brow furrowed

"The cold from last night. And how wet you became! You have mostly likely caught your death of cold!"

I stared at him.

"Here, take my handkerchief," He took out a silken square of white from another one of his many pockets and offered it to me.

"I admit it is not much, but once we arrive home I will have a doctor come at once."

"What about a policeman?" I asked cuttingly, ignoring the napkin of insanity.

"Why would I need to call a policeman?" He chuckled

"Oh, _my dear_, you are not well _at all_."

My fists clenched around a corner of my blanket

"_You make me sick."_

"Sick?"

He swooped off his fedora and laid it out like a waiter with a dish:

"You can use my hat if you wish. It is quite alright, I have plenty of money to purchase a new one,"

"I'd rather be sick upon your face."

His feline like eyes twitched, then a dark laugh arched from his mouth. He replaced his hat and gave me a smile that held a great degree of maliciousness.

"Believe me _my dear_, _**I have no face**__._ So that, in its entire essence. Would be pointless."

"_**No face?"**_

I regarded his mask with a gulp.

"_**I would rather believe that you have no sanity."**_

Erik scooped out his pocket watch again, entering back into his other extreme.

"I did not want to wake you until we had arrived at the gates, but when you began to suffer with your nightmares I had to. I could not stand it."

"That's kind of you," I drawled

Once again he ignored me, delving the watch back into his breast pocket

"But it was a pity. I wanted to give you the surprise."

"Surprise?" I lost my height and trembled

He swept his gloved hand out at the window between us, and just like magic, the curtains threw themselves open.

"Look outside, _Violet_."

I lowered my shielded hands down slightly, still blinded from the light.

"Look!" Erik pressed

I gave up.

I shuffled forward an inch or two and leaned over to see what _this surprise_ was. And could not supress my deep intake of breath.

The carriage was trundling along a winding road, and straight ahead, through a great gap in the trees was an enormous castle. Built upon a sweeping lawn, it was a vision of a gothic fairy-tale. The stones were dark and dusky, the towers shot high up into the sky with pointed roofs, and battlements crept round every rooftop. There seemed to be no end to it, the closer I looked, the more layers climbed out from it…more towers, more windows…It looked like it had risen from one of the illustrations in my childhood storybooks.

Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Erik's lips lift at my reaction.

"This was a mere ruin when I found it. And _now _it is my _masterpiece_."

There were a couple of narrow openings cut into the walls, memories from those medieval days where soldiers would have shot their arrows to defend their kings and Queens.

The carriage drove the corner and pushed upwards towards a huge twisting iron gate. I squinted, and perceived something set in the middle of them.

_A mask with slit like eyes. _

I withdrew my head again.

The gates swung open to let us through, pulled by another four serving men. We advanced inside, the horse's hooves clip-clopping on the ground. One of them let out a whinny, and I heard the gates groan and then smash together behind us. My heart sank right down to my knees and desperately I forced myself not to cry. We approached two big gate towers that were a lot more decayed than the rest of the estate, coated in tumbling ivy and weeds, but as we rumbled past I saw something seated inside, observing the world quite calmly from their guarding position. I could still sense Erik's eyes rooted to me, glued into the side of my head.

"_**Try to remain calm," **_I quivered to myself as the castle loomed up higher and higher, nearer and nearer.

"_**You will find a way to escape."**_

The carriage came to a halt in the drive, perfectly in line with the timber front door. The horse's stamped their hooves, some of them bucking restlessly against their reins. A footman sprang from his seat at the top of the carriage beside the rider, falling to his knees and laying down a blood red carpet on the ground. Erik clicked the door open and hopped out, his cloak swirling with him, clinging to his dark suit. The gravel crunched under his boots as he orbited round, and stretched out his hand, offering it to me.

My eyes flicked down, gazing at the deathly black leather glove, then back up again into the auric eyes of my captor.

I slid from my seat and opened the other door, glimpsing Erik's hand fall back to his side out of the corner of my eye. I let myself out, hassling a little with my skirts and then stumbling slightly onto the gravel on my high heeled shoes. I brushed myself down, flushing furiously.

Erik traipsed around the carriage, handing his fedora to a page and smoothing back his ink like hair. The early morning colours filtered on his sallow skin, contrasting his gothic silhouette with the fiery oranges, yellows and pale peaches of the sunrise.

He came to stand next to me and gestured up at his home with a flourish, sparks dancing in his eyes.

"Magnificent is it not? When I took this place on as my own, I designed most of the new additions myself."

I lifted my eyes up at the towering building, my lip wobbling. I began to notice things that I had not seen on our way up. Gargoyles, hundreds of them. Sinister and grotesque. Stooping as they held up window sills, hunched under the battlements and flying buttresses. They were made of marble and stone, but I swore that I saw their snake like tongues and ugly eyes scintillate and flicker in my direction. Angels joined them, creating a heavenly variation. While the gargoyles seemed clumsy and brutal, rough around the edges…The angels were smooth and proud. Carved to perfection, their mouths twirled in almost smug smiles, completely satisfied with their own beauty and virtue. Erik was speaking of majesty and imperial beauty, a house dedicated and built upon the arts…but I only saw the iron gates stretching around its enormous perimeter, spiked with thorn like spears. The forest that concealed it from the outside world…And these hundreds upon hundreds of monstrous carvings that had joined the cast of my custody.

"What do you intend to do with me Monsieur Destler?" I asked hollowly

He blinked, faltering in his speech.

I rotated my head to fully look upon him,

"Why have you brought me here?"

He seemed staggered, almost confused. Then he drew himself back up to his full height, composing himself:

"You have come here…for one purpose and one alone."

I waited.

He struggled, then pressed his lips together in a firm line

"In time you will understand,"

He strode past me, his black cloak billowing out behind me, and I shuddered as his chill slapped against my skin. His shadow stalked towards the enormous doors and two more servants opened them for him to allow his _prestigious _and _imperial _entrance.

"_**Well that is reassuring." **_

I scowled and glanced viciously over my shoulder to see the sixteen servants huddled in a ring outside the carriage, watching me silently…waiting for me to run.

I winced. Aside from memories of the previous night there was something quite decrepit about them.

I gazed out at the dawn breaking over the tree coated horizon, longing blossoming through my heart.

"_**Violet." **_

Erik did not call, with that terrible voice he did not need to.

I removed my eyes reluctantly from the sky, and moved towards the front door, dragging my blanket closer around my shoulders. _I felt disgusting_. My dress was completely ruined, my gloves were gone, and my hair was still damp and sticking to the back of my neck in filthy trails. The demon waited for me in the arched frame, penetrating me with his unblinking stare.

I refused to acknowledge him as I passed.

But despite my efforts in trying to strain myself away from him, I caught his scent.

It was a mixture that detached me monetarily from the place around me. _Intense, swirling and sharp._ I detected fir, like the towering pine trees surrounding the castle.

I shook my head to clear my nostrils of the repugnant stench. It was only another metaphor for my imprisonment.

To distract myself from his presence I placed my attention in the hall surrounding me.

Polished black and white alabaster floors, with pillars constructed from the same stone. I regarded the fawn coloured flesh of them, seeing their surface rippling with dark red veins, holding up the room with great, magisterial ease. There was a grand staircase, lined with shining golden candelabras that were detained up on the backs of more winged spirits, and these trinkets of gold were finer than any of my family's dusty ornaments at home. Two more staircases cut into the first one either side, though where they lead to was a mystery for now.

The celling stole my breath away. It was like someone had zoomed up into the depths of heaven and brought a jigsaw puzzle piece of it. An exquisite painting of shimmering halos, dancing cherubs, soft plush clouds and mountains of colour and light. You wanted to examine every detail of it. Every archangel you looked upon held an instrument of some kind. From violas to cellos, the entire plafond was an orchestra to God, and growing in its middle was a chandelier of such greatness you withered beneath it. Finally in the centre of the floor, just below the chandelier, was a great mosaic. Enthralled by its beauty, I tiptoed forward to observe it, and saw that it was of a rose. Its petals billowed out like a ballerina's skirt, bleeding out cardinal flames, its dazzling green stem barbed with thorns. It was set on a background of diamond and robin egg blue, and I was compelled to kneel down and touch the gorgeous colourful tiles.

"_I knew you would love it." _

Erik's voice snapped the spell and my fingers sagged away from the vision.

He stood beside me, the visible slant of his face illuminated, his voice dipping into a tone I did not like one bit.

I gazed at him, my fingers locking round the only possession I still had. My locket.

"_A prison is still a prison,"_ I whispered

"_No matter how beautiful it is."_

Erik's eyebrows drew together.

"I don't-"

His pupils skittered around

"I don't under-"

"_Monsieur!"_

A butler hurried up to him from the other side of the hall, and bowed respectfully

"You have a call from Paris."

The master's shoulders tensed even further.

"It can wait," Erik flicked his fingers at him dismissively

"But monsieur it is-"

"**IT CAN WAIT!"** Erik roared, throwing his torso round, his eyes exploding with fire. Every servant standing present in the hall fell to their knees, and my body gave me no other instinct but one:

_**Run!**_

I sprinted across the mosaic rose, snatching up my skirts and flying past Erik through the doors. Servants leapt upon me, their arms straining out to grab me, but I dodged and ducked underneath them propelled by my blind fear. I rushed outside to wear the servants were unreining the horses.

My father had taught me to ride during our time in Italy, I had proved myself then, and I only hoped it would help me now.

I chose the nearest unrefined horse and slapped the servant across the face as hard as I could, causing him to tumble to the ground with a yelp. I threw myself upwards, scrabbling desperately, finding it a lot harder without stirrups. More servants came running and one even snatched at my leg. I kicked him, the impact back on the horse's flank causing the steed to shriek out a whinny and rear. I dug my fingers into the horse's mane as tight as I could, squeezing in my thighs to stay atop of the horse. The servants were driven away by the horse's flailing hooves.

I slashed the reins round to the left, and instantly the mare landed her hooves on the ground and swooped into a gallop across the drive, and down the path. I kept my hands rigid and tight around her neck, keeping my back down low as I could. I was petrified that I would be thrown from the horse at any moment

My brain whirred as I pounded up and down on the back of the flying filly, overwrought with finding an escape. There was no way I could get back out through the main gates, and they were too high for any horse to jump over. _**Through the forest? **_It was too thick, the mare's hooves could never get through that kind of undergrowth, or pass through with speed while those trees stood so close together. I managed to comfort myself with the thought that I would be nearly half way down the colossal road, and this had given me extra time before they could catch me.

_**I think I saw a wall earlier, a lower wall than any of the iron gates…If I could only get to it-**_

And then I heard it.

Hooves chasing me behind.

I threw my head round to look over my shoulder, and felt my entire being become throttled and paralysed with horror.

Erik was riding on the back of a stallion that was as black as hell's nightmares, bent low in the posture of a preying beast, his mask whiter and starker than a vein, his eyes no longer gold, or even yellow…but red.

I screamed and the mare panicked.

She launched her hooves into the sky, and I was thrown off with a shriek that set my throat on fire.

I was mangled to the ground, and my entire body howled with anguish on the impact. Rolling over onto my side, I let out a screech that resounded across the entire grounds.

The sound of boots tumbling to the ground.

_Darkness spreading. _

"_**VIOLET!"**_

Kneels falling to my side.

Cold hands scooping around me. Touching my neck and forehead, feeling and seeking out the pain.

"_**No…What have I done?**_

My eyelids flickered, and everything was submerged into nothing.


	4. Chapter 4 Chains

Chapter 4

Chains

**POTO is still not mine. **

**Chapter 3 surprised me because Violet wasn't actually going to get on that horse, I had a different idea, but she snatched up the reins and told me she was going to try and escape….and did so. ****J**** And I must apologise to**** FantomPhan33**** because I had seen a phantom based film the other day, and they had the very earliest version of the telephone and that was what I was imagining. This story is set in around the 1870's…so slight mistake on my part. ****J**** (Always do your research!) **

**Thank you to ****PhantomFan01,****FantomPhan33 ****EvaAuthor, Mlle Fanfic Guest ****and ****emeraldphan. ****You are all Angels of Reviews! Xx **

**Note: Also this chapter is slightly smaller because I'm quite busy. But I hope you enjoy x ****J**

**Erik's POV**

The Doctor rose from the bedside, his bag of tools and instruments in hand, fixing his half-moon glasses at a better angle on his nose. I stepped forward from my shadows, massaging the back of my neck.

"How is she?"

The Doctor gave me a gentle smile, thankfully only being able to see me clearly by my voice. The old man squinted while even wearing his glasses.

"Monsieur calm yourself. Rest assured. She is more or less alright."

"Are you quite certain?"

"Of course monsieur."

"Will there be any…."

I cleared my throat, attempting to calm my anxiety

"_Disfigurements_ to her body?"

_**Please tell me it won't be so…She cannot ever-**_

"She landed on her back, so there were no bones broken. A great deal of her body is severely bruised, and her head is very weak and sore, but that will all heal over time."

The doctor adjusted his shirt collar as I exhaled deeply.

"All she needs now is rest. No stress and no riding horses for a while!" He chuckled

I did not laugh.

The doctor's laugh trailed off and hurriedly he moved towards the door, sensing my danger.

"Good day to you monsieur, and god bless your lady."

My eyes whipped round at him, narrowing as the door clicked shut.

I felt my insides twist out of shape slightly.

I looked upon the maiden who lay asleep in her Princess bed, her elongate, chocolate curls tumbling out over her pillow like waves. Her eyes were closed, her head turned slightly to one side, her pallor a rather worrying shade. She had been washed and scrubbed clean by maids, and tucked into bed with the sheets pulled right up to her neck. But still, she did not look well.

_Which was her own fault. _

I forced myself to breath evenly, pulling down my shoulders in an attempt to relax.

I had expected more of her: I was promised light and was given a poor mirage of it. I had clearly told her my orders and she had disobeyed me.

I ground my teeth together, fingers clenching and unclenching.

But _perhaps_…I was being too harsh on the girl. She was most probably unnerved by such an enormous change, scared and sickly from the mistreatment and tragedy she had suffered in her father's house. Naturally a young lady as traumatised as she, could not cope with something like this all at once. And she could not know the challenges ahead, nor even dream or imagine the great plans I had in store for her.

But that did not excuse the way she had behaved.

She could **not** make me feel guilt, when _she was to blame._

_**No.**_

We had a great many things to discuss when she awakened.

**Violet's POV**

I slowly rose from consciousness. My body felt weighed down, aching and sore, fatigued…I saw myself hazily in my own mind, lying on top of the surface of a very deep and dark pond: barely floating and almost sinking. But the water _was so comfortable_…shifting into a soft, sturdy bed that rose up out of the water, carrying me with it, bathed and covered in thick, furry, sheets. I opened my eyes, my pupils drawn to a sparkle somewhere to my right. I observed it without seeing it, sequins of light and colours swimming before me.

But then I began to focus, and realised that I was looking at a very beautiful golden candle on a chest of drawers. Its flame danced merrily on the wax's tip, spreading its orange glow around the darkened room. As I began to adjust, I began to peer around, realising where I was.

I was lying in a very beautiful, four poster canopy bed, with splendid orchid coloured curtains and a finely carved iron frame, with intricate scroll patterns. I was certain that the pillows were swansdown, quilted and silky, and so unbearably soft to touch. The plum sheets were quite heavy, but they were so _warm._ I wriggled a little, attempting to sit up.

Then winced, groaning.

_Bruises…_I felt them all over my side and on my back.

I saw the memory flash back to me.

_The mare rearing. _

_Falling. _

_Erik's ferocious face. _

I collapsed back against the pillows, my hands crossed over my chest, heart tearing at my throat.

_**Breathe…**_I told myself, remembering my mama's words from long ago:

"_Violet…If you are scared…if darkness is blocking your vision…then all you need to do is look around you." _In my head I saw her younger and beautiful, her hair dark…like mine. Her coral lips still had a song lingering on her lips, and she held me close.

"_Look around you...find something nice, and you will forget your fear."_

_**Breathe…Distract yourself…look around…**_

This room was probably at least four times the size of my own at home.

There was a great window on the far wall, the drapes loosely hung over their glass panes. The window showed me the tresses of the blackened, heather coloured sky outside. I could distinctly perceive the heads of the fir trees in the distance, but it was too dark to truly see anything else. To the left of the window were two doors with gilt curly golden handles and I assumed that this was my balcony. A majority of the furniture was a creamy gold, in the Venetian traditional style. Everything seemed to spiral and curl. Everything was artistic and chosen with great taste. Pretty, delicate, and most of all _feminine_.

There was writing desk, a quaint little bookshelf, and tiny little paintings and portraits hung on the walls everywhere…all depicting graceful, innocent young women holding baskets of flowers, reading, playing the piano, or simply just smiling demurely.

There was a grand dressing table on my left, with three round, oval mirrors, and every kind of beauty and perfume product every known to a woman of the period, on its marbled textured surface.

The mirrors were covered by a silk white sheet.

This struck me as rather odd.

And as soon as I began to think that, I felt something move in the corner.

My head snapped round to look into a shadowed place on my right, beside the door, where no light ventured.

Two slivers of golden eyes in the darkness.

Anger constrained within their slits.

I flung the sheets up to my eyes, pressing my shivering body low into the sheets, my entire form blistering with heat and ice at the same time.

_**Oh god! Why? In here of all places?**_

"You have disappointed me, Violet."

Erik stepped out from the shadows, his eyebrows carved downwards, face menacing.

I shuffled backwards against the pillows as he prowled closer.

"I told you what would happen if you tried to run, _didn't I_? But did you listen foolish girl? _**No**_."

"I-I-If you hadn't f-f-frightened me I-I wouldn't have ran away," I croaked

"I would not have needed to frighten you, unless you had behaved correctly." He snarled

I began to cry again, covering my face with my hands, my head wilting under the strain.

"I don't know what you mean, I don't know what you want from me…._Please just let me go home!"_

"_This is your __**home **__now."_

"Do you even hear what I am saying?" I moaned

"_Do you_ realise how much damage you could have done to yourself when you fell from that horse?" Erik growled, leaning forward over the bed post

"_I will not allow that to happen again!"_

I raised my head slowly from my hands. His mouth was convulsing, his neck pulsing. His hands twitching. His eyes were a dangerous yellow again

"You have to _look_…_you have to be_…"

_**What is wrong with this man?**_ I thought, sinking back right under the blankets, hoping that the bed would swallow me up, little hairs flicking up all over my body.

But to my intense relief he straightened himself up, like a puppet being pulled back up by his strings. He tugged at his pristine shirt collar, swallowing and breathing heavily. His eyes returned to his calmer, cooler shade of gold.

He drew back gradually.

"Clearly I must state the rules to you."

"R-rules?"

"Yes," He answered tightly, folding his arms

"They are for your own protection. And your own convenience."

I opened my mouth to protest but one look was enough to silence me.

"Your own…._protection._" He repeated with gritted teeth

"Do I have your full attention now, _Mademoiselle Arturi_?"

I nodded mutely.

His golden eyes glinted.

"_Good."_

He shifted his shoulders back, as if he were about to present a speech.

"Rule Number One: you will arrive to dinner on time."

My eyes flickered, but he rushed on before I could attempt to interrupt him.

"I understand that you are bedridden at this time, and that your head is sore, but as soon as you recover I expect you to dine with me at precisely six o'clock and not a moment after."

_**That's not…as severe as I thought…**_

"If you arrive late then you will be sent to your room without dinner." Erik glowered callously

"I am not a patient man. And have expectations to be fulfilled."

He sucked in his breath, then continued:

"Rule Number Two, you will stay in your designated areas of the castle. The East wing is entirely yours. But take one step in the west wing without my consent and _you will suffer for it_."

"The west-?"

"The West wing is where I work, compose and create. My private _quarters_._"_

I shivered, his chill scorching me. Everything that came from his mouth was either a threat or a snarl. I was starting to almost want the nonsensical man in the carriage back.

"Rule Number Three, you are not allowed to leave the grounds without my presence, or _my express permission."_

_**That in its own sense was obvious. But I will search for a way out, no matter what he says. **_

Sometimes I was sure he could read thoughts, for he leaned forward again, claw-like fingers curling round the bed nob, eyes narrow, hissing:

"Do you understand, Mademoiselle Arturi? You will never try to leave. _Ever. __**Again**_**.**"

I stared at him, my emotions boiling inside me.

"Is that a promise? Or do I need to _persuade_ you?"

I wetted my lips, forcing myself to bite down my retort.

"_Yes."_

"Yes what?" He scowled

"I don't think I heard you correctly!"

"Yes. I promise." I replied in a monotone.

He nodded approvingly.

"Well done _Violet_. I am pleased that we are making progress."

I fixed my eyes upon him with as much poison as I could muster in my pupils.

His lips twitched, amused by my anger.

"You truly thought I would be easily fooled, didn't you?" He spoke softly,

"I gave you patience, I was kind, gracious and welcoming to you. And you repaid me with _this._" His nostrils flared with disgusted contempt.

"Did you expect me to come quietly?" I asked bitterly

"After everything I have given you, _yes_, as a matter of fact _I did_."

We gazed upon each other with fire in our hearts. None of us willing to let go of our own argument.

Silence stretched, then Erik said, without betraying the slightest spark of emotion:

"Rule Number Four, and most importantly of all- _**You will not touch the mask."**_

The mask.

A single fleck of white in the sea of darkness…ominous, blank of mercy. Hiding the biggest mystery of all.

I flicked my eyes back up to his

"I can agree to that without much hesitancy."

"Keep it that way." He retorted

"For if you lay a fingernail upon it…"

The look he bestowed me was pure twisted darkness.

"No nightmare you can ever have… will come close _to what will happen to you_."


	5. Chapter 5 Cautela

**Chapter 5**

**The Phaaaaantom of the opera is still not mine. **

**Quick note: ****Ok. So I tried to write a reallllly long chapter with over 3000 words. But It really wasn't working, the characters weren't speaking and too much stuff was going on. I would have liked 2 have given you the whole package chapter, but I really wasn't happy with it, so I hope this is alright for now. Xxx Thank you so much. Elusive x**

Books had always been my greatest love and comfort, a way to escape and to explore…something to distract and entertain me…but here in the depths of this princess room, lit by dim candlelight, with my body submerged in sheets and thick satins, I found it impossible to get away.

I was constantly reminded by the sparkle of the ornaments…the grand fireplace…and the possessions and furniture that were perfectly crafted for a lady of royalty.

I was out of place.

A dusty, smudged feature in this exhibition of grandeur.

_I didn't belong here. _

_I shouldn't be here. _

_I didn't __**want **__to be here. _

I laid my book to rest on one of my pillows, and gazed up into the textured canopy of my four poster, sprawling out my aching limbs, and pushing my hand across my face in an attempt to rub away the feeling of disgust and anguish that possessed me.

"_**My poor papa**_**…he must be going insane with grief and worry!"**

When my despair and anxiety pressed too deeply, I comforted myself with the image of Father rushing into the inspector's office at the police station, and all the gentlemen of the force rushing out on their horses to rescue me from this nightmare. Monsieur Destler would be tried, thrown in jail and punished until the end of his days for his terrible mistreatment of me and his insane behaviour.

_But how would they ever find me?_ I was being trapped, kidnapped and held hostage in a castle hours away in the middle of a forest, in the abyss of nowhere!

I placed my hands over my eyes.

Two days I had been bound to my bed, and I had never been so restless in my life.

I wanted to be able to sit up properly and walk without cringing, wincing or moaning in pain. I wanted to be able to start uncovering this place from top to bottom and find my route to freedom. How could I possibly run while I was rooted here?

But on the other hand…perhaps it was a good thing that I was contained in bed. It gave me a relieving reason to not be forced into Monsieur Destler's company.

I shuddered.

I was relieved that he had not come to me again. Of all the crimes he had committed so far, that was the one that was by far the most humiliating. He had threatened me, snarled at me…and I was only dressed in my nightgown…and I was in bed! He came to my private quarters!

No gentleman would ever do such a thing.

So…instead of dinner with my jailer, a servant named Jacque delivered all my meals on silver trays and platters. But he never looked me in the face and always walked straight back out again as soon as he had completed his task. I never had anything to say to him anyway, but in the state I was in, I was beginning to feel desperate. If I could only _talk to someone_…anyone who might be a _little bit sane_…Someone who I could persuade into helping me escape…

But it was no use searching for it in any of the servants. I found every single one of Monsieur Erik's dogs to be repugnant and on the very edge of being macabre.

They were all silent…completely silent. And completely loyal to their master.

On the fourth day I awoke quite abruptly, my mind immediately trying to trace back the blurry memories of the dream I had just been having. My arms were raised to curl around my head, flung back against the cushions, and my heart was drumming insistently. I pulled my arms back down, my fingers plucking at my precious locket, lost a little in a spell. And then I realised that my body was feeling a lot better than it had done previously.

Blinking back the fuzz of sleep in my eyes, I looked down under the sheets to check on my condition, and found that, thankfully, the bruises were beginning to slowly fade into a greenish plum like tinge, which meant recovery by some stage at least.

I glanced across the room, the darkened early morning shafting through my window and across the floor. I was curious of the pearly white light of the rising sun peppering itself on the panes, and rose from the sheets. I shifted around, feeling the searing ache in my bones that begged me to stay and lie still. I ground my teeth down, massaging the sides of my legs, then dropped my feet onto the floor.

My nightgown was a colour of the most innocent white. It draped beautifully over my body and billowed down to the tops of my feet. I had matching stockings that were lined with lace.

I stumbled and trembled on my feet, clutching the frame of the bed for support, and the edge of a nearby circular table to get to my destination. Eventually I managed to reach the window, and rested heavily against the wall, my head heavy and my vision spattered with a few dizzy stars.

Mist quilted across the world below, but it's thin, veiled vapours revealed the silhouette of the gardens far below. I could see the outlines of low hedges, cutting paths that criss-crossed together in firm, straight lines. The gardens strained out in all directions, huge and imposing.

_**I would like to explore them…but only when I am not suffering every time I move. **_

My gaze fell to the grand clock on the mantelpiece above the fireplace.

Eight o'clock precisely.

"_**I should dress."**_

There was a silvery, crystal bell on the table beside the window, with a note propped against it. There in a rambling, spiky scroll was the words:

"_Ring this bell if you need your maids to come to you."_

I hesitated, my eyes flickering around. Then I rang the bell.

It was alarming, for the note pierced the air so loudly it almost caused me to drop it. But it was also so pure, and pretty…like a single rain drop in this sea of darkness.

There was the sound of feet hurrying up and up, then there was a firm rapping on the hidden servant's door, that was positioned beside my wardrobe.

"E-e-enter!" I called, lifting my chin

The door opened, and three young women pattered into the room, all of them wore white bonnets and aprons in the traditional serving style.

"Mademoiselle…" They all formed a line and curtsied before me.

"How may we serve you?"

I could not help but inhale sharply.

All three of the maids wore thick, parchment coloured masks.

I was forced into staring.

The masks were crooked, hideous and horribly grotesque. Despite the plain and simple features, I found them more disturbing than the mute attitudes of the other servants.

"Wha-"

I swallowed.

"What are your first names?"

The first maid stepped forward. She had dirty blonde curls peeking out from under her bonnet, and a very strong chin. I could see a round hump rising from her back, making her stoop slightly as she moved:  
>"My name is Jeanne-Marie…Mademoiselle."<p>

The second maid stepped forward, I could perceive her eyes looking out from under her mask, which were a soft pastel blue:

"I am Claudia, Mademoiselle,"

She had quite the sweetest voice I had ever heard.

The last maid merely curtsied again, but said nothing. She was the shortest out of the other two, with hair blacker than raven's wings.

"Her name is Dorthea, Mademoiselle Arturi…But sadly she cannot speak." Jeanne-Marie told me quickly

"It…it is a pleasure to meet you all." I clasped my hands together, moving my lips into a welcoming smile, my head throbbing.

"Why…"

I paused to find more delicate words: "May I ask why you wear masks _like_…"

My voice tailed off

"Like the master?" Jeanne-Marie finished for me simply.

"Yes," I chewed my lip: "I hope I have not offended-"

"We are not offended at all, Mademoiselle," Claudia spoke gently, bobbing down again

"The masks are simply part of our uniform. Master Monsieur Destler said that we must wear them at all times while we work."

For the first time I noticed that her eyes did not stray from straight ahead. She was blind.

"_I see,"_ I lightly touched my locket with my forefinger.

There was a rather awkward pause.

"Did you wish us to dress you, Mademoiselle?" I was sure that Jeanne-Marie's eyebrows twitched upwards, even if they were concealed beneath the mask.

"Y-yes!" I nodded obstinately

"Yes…_excuse me_…that would be most kind of you."

They shifted into action.

Claudia glided to me, her hands slightly outstretched, and found my shoulders.

"Excuse me…" She smiled softly,

She felt her way around, until she stood behind me.

"Dorthea, could you hand me Mademoiselle's hairbrush?" Claudia requested politely

"What will you be wearing today, Mademoiselle?" Jeanne-Marie inquired, bowing to me from the open door of the wardrobe.

"I…have actually not even seen what is inside," I realised with a jolt

Jeanne-Marie seemed incredulous: "Truly? Mademoiselle will be very surprised and delighted with the sight, then."

Intrigued, I wobbled across the room, clenching my fingers against the stinging pain, and looked inside.

What came before my eyes, stole the breath from my lungs.

It was so huge, it was like another room…Rows upon rows of the finest tailored gowns and dresses I have ever laid my eyes upon. I had had to sell most of my more expensive clothes when we began to fall into debt, and it had hurt me very deeply. Many of those gowns had been my favourites, worn at balls and grand parties…they had been stitched with happy golden memories. And now…seeing all these wondrous things…all from a royal closet it seemed…filled me with a glow that had not been there before.

Silks, satins, lace…hundreds of different kinds of corsets, bodices and crinolines. I even glimpsed the sparkle of pearls and jewels on many of the skirts.

Lavender, jasmine, citrine…shimmering all the way across the spectrum to the colours teal, indigo, and viridian.

"Am I a princess?" I whispered, my fingers shaking, as I touched the fabric of a sugar pink dress closest to me.

"The master did say that we were to treat you like one." Claudia's breezy voice lilted pleasantly into my ears.

"_**But why….?"**_

Everything dazzled and sparkled before my eyes

"_**Is this all bribery? Blackmail?"**_

I didn't _want _to like any of the clothes he had given me.

_But I did. _

And that made me angry.

I snatched down a gown of sooty black to express my mood. Tired with lace with enormous round, boulder like sleeves.

"Black?" Jeanne-Marie exclaimed

I shot her a glare and she hunched over hastily

"My apologises…Mademoiselle Arturi…but surely that is quite unsuitable for-?"

"_It is_ suitable." I replied coldly: "If it is a mourning dress then it is perfect. I AM in mourning."

The maids all twitched uncomfortably, and even under my anger I felt ashamed for the way I was venting on them.

"Black it is," Jeanne-Marie mumbled


	6. Chapter 6 Dinner with The Master

Chapter 6

Dinner with the Master

**Note: The song that Erik sings, you can find a spectacular and phenomenal version here: watch?v=w77SFM7Fksc&index=7&list=PLTtT3vD5-GEynbBE0rbeUoW4XL0ZYROrc**

**(Or else search for Il Divo's Adagio if it's not working) I really recommend listening (not watch! Very important) to that while/before/after you have read him singing. Also when he starts humming, listen to the part where the (I think it's a cello?) is starting the song off. That is the bit I imagined him to hum in the beginning. ****J**

**Also, don't think that Erik's plans have truly been discovered. There is more mystery to come!**

I stepped out of my room, leaning against the door frame to help myself. Outside, the passage was painted with moonlight that was shining down through a circular window at the very end of the corridor, but shadows danced everywhere. There were candles mounted into the walls and they still had flames flaring low in their wicks, providing a heavy atmosphere in the surrounding darkness. I pushed my left hand against the wall, and stepped along the corridor.

It was half past Five.

I was still dressed in black.

And I had no other choice but to obey Rule Number One.

My pride and disdain had not quelled my hunger.

But I was still allowed to be afraid.

I found my way down many flights of stairs, going through the many twists and turns of the labyrinth of the castle. Jeanne-Marie had given me very specific instructions on how to find my way to the dining hall, even writing it down on a piece of parchment. I had asked hopefully if she would come with me, but unfortunately that was not allowed.

I was to come and find my own way to Monsieur Destler, alone.

I came to the last staircase just as a grandfather clock chimed to five forty. I found myself in a very foreboding room with more domino patterned tiles, and very hungry looking gargoyles leering at me from every corner. The only light slanted from underneath a very ominous door, up ahead slightly to my right. Two statues guarded the entrance, two beasts that resembled half lion and half eagle. Their starving stone eyes followed my every step as I scuttled out from the staircase, across the room and in front of the door.

I swallowed, drawing the little shawl I was wearing closer around my shoulders.

I took a deep breath, and raised my knuckle to knock, but the door merely slid a crack or two open without my command.

I opened it a little wider, peering round the doorframe to look at what I would be facing.

What I wasn't quite expecting was the silence that greeted me.

There was an incredible fireplace on my left, which stretched out at least five times wider than my own fireplace in my chamber. Two smirking angels lifted it up as pillars, and a devilish face grinned down from above the mantle. Flames reared and arched up from inside, blistering the logs and casting the room with a hellish orange glow.

There was a very long, mahogany table in the middle of the hall that could fit at least twelve guests either side.

Erik sat at the far head of it, his back straight, and tall, his arms laid calmly on the table surface. He had exchanged his cloak and fedora and was now dressed in a white dinner shirt, with a matching waistcoat, and a magnificently tailored, black tail coat. His mask almost seemed to glow with its death like paleness, with the other half of his face brooding in dim slithers of firelight.

His eyes rested upon me, and at once he pushed his chair, standing with a strange elegance I had never seen a man possess.

He bowed, inclining his head.

I curtseyed coldly by the door.

"Good evening, Violet." Erik said formally. "I am pleased to see you up and out of bed."

"As am I," I replied quietly, moving towards the table, my hands folded on my stomach.

**Erik's POV**

I watched my little muse come closer, observing how she walked, how she kept his chin high to prove strength, and her expression hard to show displeasure. She might still be ill-tempered and saddened, but already her light was resounding around my castle. No longer could I see the deep shadows in the corners. No longer was this table empty. No…the darkness was slithering out. Wherever she walked, her youth and beauty drained out the ugliness.

I could not be continuously angry at the girl, when she was changing the castle before my very eyes.

But still…she _was too stubborn…_

I had expected her to be demure, grateful, graceful and perhaps a little shy. When she said that she would come with me, with great urgency, I believed her. But all that changed as soon as I tried to force her into moving quicker. She wasn't behaving like the lady I had envisioned at all. If she was to be successful in her art, she had to learn that nothing stayed still.

She pulled out her chair carefully, fiddling with a strand of her hair.

"Allow me," I stepped forward, determined to uphold my code as a gentleman

"No! I…" She blinked her large eyes, floundering before her seat.

I became stone, pushing myself back again.

"Very well," I clicked my fingers dismissively and commandingly, and at once one of my dogs rushed out from the servant's room. He stood behind the girl, waiting. She crawled into her chair, and he pushed her in closer to the table.

I felt great satisfaction watching this little scene.

I…Erik. Standing at the head of the table, in my dining room while my muse was attended to by servants, just like she would be if she was seated in the halls of heaven, like she no doubted-ly had before, and would again one day.

I lowered myself down into my chair, pulling myself in with ease. I waved the servant away back into the abyss, and he obeyed, head bowed. The girl shifted her shoulders, glancing up at the high celling, her eyes fidgeting around the room.

"In honour of your first meal, I have prepared quite a divine feast." I swept out my serviette and jostling it securely into my collar.

She remained silent, her head drooping to look down into her lap, her dark lips slightly pouted.

"I hope you are not glowering again," I frowned, my eyes piercing her severely

**Violet's POV**

I disliked his attempt to wheedle a response out of me. Trying to make a normal conversation after everything that had happened. He had done this before. Acting as if all was perfect and well while the situation was glaringly, obviously not.

"No monsieur Destler…" I lifted my eyes to him, far away across the other end of the table: "I am not."

The doors behind me opened, and a whole chorus of servants came in carrying dishes and plates covered with silver covers.

The dinner was served.

The servants placed the feast upon the table.

Two men set themselves apart either end, and whisked off the shining covers. The steam of the meal whooshed up into my face, clouding over my vision, and for a moment all I could see was those cat like golden eyes, watching me through the thick, hot smoke.

For a split second my breath caught in my throat,

But then he swept the steam aside with one magisterial swoop.

"Shall we begin?" He asked calmly, taking up his knife and fork.

The meal consisted of a very plum and sumptuous looking turkey, along with mounds of vegetables and smothered in sauce. It looked _delicious_, and I had not had such a grand meal in such a long time.

I plucked my own cutlery up from the table, and started to saw at the enormous bird.

Minutes passed.

It was so quiet.

The only sounds were our clinking and scraping, and the hissing crackle of the fire.

I could _feel_ him watching me.

The place was so dark, especially at his end of the table…it really did appear as if the master could literally sink away into the shadows, and not be there at all. If I kept up this pretence…

I was being deterred from my chewing. I felt so uneasy while he was sat there eating, flicking stares between slow and deliberate mouthfuls.

Contours swirled and shifted all around me.

Only a spindly candelabra, and the distance of the table separated him from me.

I stole a brief study of him about quarter of the way through the Turkey.

Erik ate his meal with a strange finesse, his knife and fork rising and falling gradually, as if he were a conductor with his baton. His presence struck me so strongly: so mysterious and caliginous…so fiendish and proud.

"About my maids…" I began hesitantly

Instantly his head shot up.

"Is there anything wrong with them?" Erik demanded: "have they displeased you in some way?"

"No!" I replied hastily: "I just wondered-"

Erik waited with sharp eyes, listening extremely carefully for my next response.

"Why is it part of their uniform to wear masks?" I fiddled anxiously

"It just is." Erik answered coldly: "They cannot be permitted to work in my house otherwise."

He went back to his food rather viciously.

"A-…oh…" I mumbled, returning my eyes downcast

We went back to our dinner, I managed to get through half of the turkey and some of the vegetables, but my stomach was squeezing.

More time passed, then I could stand it no longer.

"Will you ever tell me what you meant?" I sighed

Erik patted at his chin with his serviette, head slightly tilted to one side:

"You will have to be a little more specific, I'm afraid," He smirked

"Your phrase….that I am here for 'one purpose and one alone'." I said, irritation creeping into my voice, as well as nervousness: "I am _tormented_ by it. I must know precisely what you mean by it."

"_Ah_, I see." Erik placed his serviette nimbly on the corner of the table. He took a little time before answering, and I felt certain that it was more for dramatic effect than anything else.

His lips twirled at the corners, sensing my impatience. He laid his cutlery down and put his fingertips together.

"Tell me mademoiselle…what do you know of _music?_"

_**Music?**_

"Not a great deal…" I mused hesitantly: "My father taught me a little of the piano forte…I had an uncle who was very talented at playing the violin...but my knowledge and practise is very limited."

"What about singing?" Erik's voice dipped low, pressing with deep interest.

"Singing? I-…no. No….my mother was the only one who could sing." I stammered defensively.

Talking about her out loud was too painful for my soul.

Erik raised one eyebrow: "I find that a little difficult to believe."

"Do you?" I folded my arms, my eyes narrowing.

He ignored me, rising from his chair and striding towards the fireplace. Tentatively I also stood up out of common curtsey.

He stood there for a moment, silhouetted against the orange and scarlet inferno.

Silence…

Then…

Through the spatter of sparks and rippling light, I saw his mouth move…either in a grimace or a smirk I was never sure. I heard something swirl from him, something low and magnetising. I stepped round my chair cautiously and curiously, my ears pricking to hear what it was over the fire.

Erik was _humming_.

Rising and falling…up and down…a tune that I had heard once, perhaps long ago in a dream. He seemed to be able to make a variety of a tune, as flexible and easily as a musical instrument.

He slowed the humming to a stop.

Then he lifted his arms aloof, as if he was about to launch himself into the hearth… opened his mouth…

_And began to sing:_

"_**Non so dove trovarti**_

_**Non so come cercarti…"**_

My heart flipped over several times into a summersault, chills erupting all over my arms…my eyes widening. He turned his head slowly to gaze at me, steadily straight in the eye.

"_**Ma sento una voce che**_

_**Nel vento parla di **__**Te**__**...**_

_**Quest'anima senza cuore**_

_**Aspetta te**_

_**Adagio…"**_

_The emotion_…his voice practically dripped of it with its rich and caressing beauty and darkness. Soft as a lullaby. He trailed the last word's a's…pulling me forward helplessly. His eyes were so deep with _something_…his voice was lowering and I was falling with it.

"_**Le notti senza pelle**_

_**I sogni senza stelle.**_

_**Immagini del tuo viso**_

_**Che passano all'improvviso..**_

_**Mi fanno sperare ancora**_

_**Che ti troverò**_

_**Adagio…"**_

Now his voice became thunder.

"_**Chiudo gli occhi e vedo te**_

_**Trovo il cammino che**_

_**Mi porta via dall'agonia..**_

_**Sento battere in me**_

_**Questa musica che**_

_**Ho inventato per te.."**_

He reached out his arm…to me.

_**Se sai come trovarmi**_

_**Se sai dove cercarmi**_

_**Abbracciami con la mente**_

_**Il sole mi sembra spento**_

_**Accendi il tuo nome in cielo..**_

"_**Dimmi che ci sei**_

_**Quello che vorrei…"**_

His eyes implored me, almost begging me.

"_**Vivere in te!"**_

He threw his arms out, like a phoniex, his voice climbing high, soaring and flying out. And now he sang as if he were on fire:

"_**Il sole mi sembra spento**_

_**Abbracciami con la mente**_

_**Smarrita senza di te!"**_

"_**Dimmi chi sei e ci crederò**_

_**Musica**__** sei!**_

A second…a single pause. And then he touched the heavens.

_**ADAGIO!"**_

I had not known what had happened to me, but I had fallen to my knees before him, weeping silent tears, my hands closed around my pendent and my heart. When he ceased to sing I whimpered, feeling my body sag without the phenomenal voice to hold me up, and breathe the colours into me. It was like I had been lost in my senses all the time I had existed. Had never experienced what life really was, until now.

I had seen nothing.

Felt nothing.

Heard nothing but his voice.

I was trapped inside it.

Flying inside it.

And it was all in the tongue I held most dearly to my heart. My blessed, beautiful, wondrous, Italian. He had spoken it so perfectly...

I couldn't believe where I was.

How could I be in this dining hall, when this man…no…this angel had taken me up to the very sky and shown me all the stars? I cried and cried, until he knelt down before me, and captured my eyes.

"That voice? It can be yours. That is the greatness and power I can teach you."

"T-t-t-teach me to sing…?" I was beside myself, half detached and drunk in his mesmerising trance.

"Become my student. Become my _true muse_…_my angel…_and together we will astonish Paris."

"_Together…?" _I whispered. His face was so close to mine.

"We shall begin immediately, tomorrow morning_. Be prepared_."


	7. Chapter 7 An Inspector calls

Chapter 7

An Inspector Calls

**Note: Hello everyone ****J**** "The First Lesson" will be uploaded at some point very soon. Thank you all for your patience. I wish I could write and update more often, but I've been studying for mocks and have so much work still to do. Hopefully I'll slave away at the computer and give you some more chapters for a Christmas present. **

**?'s POV**

I despised this weather. Frost coated the streets and made walking extremely hazardous, the wind whipped through every tiny hole in my coat, and chilled my very bones. Hastily and hurriedly seeking shelter, I ducked into the police station, and tried my best to find a warm corner. This was perfectly acceptable for the people inside, they were used to my presence, or preferred to ignore me. To me, this night would have been just like every other night, had I not overheard this conversation coming from the Inspector's office:

"I apologise, can you say that again Monsieur? You say a masked man came in the night and kidnapped your daughter?"

I whipped into the shadows outside the door, and tilted my head to peer inside. Inspector sat at his desk, propping himself on his elbows. He had two lieutenants standing either side of him, (one was taking notes) like guards, and was addressing an older gentleman in dusty, dirt ridden clothes opposite him. The man could not have been older than his fifties, yet he looked as if he had aged twenty five years in one night.

"Yes. I know, it sounds quite strange to say out in the open, Monsieur. I myself, am still struggling to accept it." The elderly man sighed, pushing a paw through his tangled mane of hair.

"But you said he paid you in gold and gave you the medicine for your wife's illness?" The Lieutenant on the left asked, in a tone that was not entirely respectful.

"Yes, but he took my girl by force!" The old gentleman raised his head sharply

"I'm sorry Inspector, but I am a little confused at what this man is telling us…" The Lieutenant's lips twisted into a sneer: "This does not sound like a kidnapping to me, the way he has described it. And I think we can all agree that women have been bought for less. For God's sake what are you complaining about man? He assured you that she would have everything she could ever want, and helped your family out of poverty!"

"Lieutenant!" The Inspector interjected, a little bit too late. The old gentleman rose to his feet, shaking with rage:

"How dare you! If I was still in Italy, the police would have rounded up their men and marched out instantly to find my daughter! Not stand and insult me! "

"Well unlike the Italians we prefer not to march out immediately without questioning a couple of things." The Lieutenant drawled:

"He was a BEAST! A MADMAN! A TYRANT!" The old gentleman slammed his fist on the desk, upending most of the stationary on its surface. The lieutenant on the right dropped his notebook in alarm.

"Monsieur Arturi, please calm yourse-" The Inspector tried desperately, but his client was beyond listening. Monsieur Arturi's attention was still fiercely directed on the Lieutenant:

"Do you even know what it is like to have a daughter? What kind of policeman are you?" He snarled, his eyes flashing fiercely. He turned on the Inspector who was red with embarrassment: "Inspector, I will not be insulted by your colleagues. If you won't help me find her, I'll do it myself."

The insolent Lieutenant muttered out of the corner of his lips: "An old man like you?"

"DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?" I HAVE NO IDEA IF MY ONLY DAUGHTER IS SAFE OR NOT!" The father exploded, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.

I shot out of the doorway as Monsieur Arturi made to storm out of the room. But then there was a _bump, _and then an awful _thump _noise. Then I heard the Inspector cry out in alarm: "Somebody fetch the poor man a drink!"

The young man who had been holding the notebook, shot out of the office in front of me, and dashed past to complete his orders. I pressed my back against the wall to avoid being hit by him, and then placed my ear back next to the door. There was a great deal of muttering, and an occasional: "steady now Monsieur!" A minute or two later, the Lieutenant rushed past me again and back into the office, holding a bottle of whisky. There was another thump or two, a choked moan, and then the sound of a cork popping from a bottle. I peered back round the door to observe once more, and saw the old gentleman glugging the alcohol straight from the bottle. He took a long swig, and then pushed the bottle from his lips and sighed. While the politer lieutenant was asking about his health, the Inspector had roughly pulled the insulting, rude lieutenant aside into a corner. From my place in the shadows I heard his voice lower, and become hard with anger: "Next time we speak to someone, _you will remain silent. _Since your promotion you have become far too confident."

"Monsieur I-!" The boy struggled in indignation, puffing himself up.

"We are here to serve and guard the people. Not provoke them." The Inspector snapped: "Do your duty, and don't embarrass yourself again. Or you won't have a position at all."

The Inspector turned back to the elderly gentleman, releasing his colleague with a shove.

"I deeply apologise for my colleague's behaviour, monsieur." He bowed his head: "I will now speak, and there will be no further interruptions." He moved briskly back to his seat, and slowly lowered himself into it, his brow furrowed: "In France we have an ideal of how a man in society should behave- even if we are not as strict and hypocritical as the English, we know where the line draws." The Inspector frowned a little at his inferior at the last line.

"The man that you speak of sounds like a danger to those around him. No matter what he gave you and your family, he should have had the courtesy to treat you all with respect_. Especially_ your daughter." He pressed his fingers together, and gazed shrewdly at Monsieur Arturi: "Did he ever mention why he wanted your daughter in the first place?"

"No, Inspector, _never_." Arturi was far away into an abyss. His voice shook and tremored, and was almost hoarse. He lifted his eyes to look into the Inspector's face: "_That is what haunts me the most."_

"No marriage proposal?" The other Lieutenant asked from the side, making notes again.

"When I spoke of it, he ignored the question. As if it repelled him in some way." Arturi closed his eyes from internal agony.

"_**Could it be?"**_I wondered inside my head: **"**_**Could this really be-?"**_

I had to know, and I had lingered too long in the doorway for one night. I drew out from the shadows and entered the room: "What kind of mask did he wear? And what was his _exact _description?" I demanded of the gentleman. Everyone jumped a little at my sudden appearance, but the Inspector exhaled in exasperation.

"He er…." Monsieur Arturi's eyes flicked between me and the police team: "He wore a fedora, a black cloak- everything he wore actually was black. _And he had a mask_. A white mask on one side of his face." He shuddered.

"And the part of his face you could see?" I pressed

"He had the face of a man who had seen and done terrible things." Monsieur Arturi answered, still a little deterred by my presence.

"_**So…he has returned. After all this time of never hearing a word, only whispers and rumours…Erik has come back to his old ways." **_I thought, my insides plummeting.

I removed my hat grimly, and bowed respectfully to him: "My name is Nadir Khan. I was the Dharoga for the Shah of Persia seven years ago."

"And now he assists us here," The Inspector's lips twitched:

"I once knew a man with golden eyes, who could kill anyone with a flick of his wrist. A man who had a chill hanging over him wherever he went: someone who seemed to command the very shadows around him. A man who was feared by everyone in the Persian court. _His name was Erik._"

"He had no surname?" The Inspector raised one eyebrow sardonically

I shook my head: "None that I ever knew of. _He belonged to no family_, and _no family ever belonged to him."_

"Never mind all that! Can you help us?" Arturi demanded

"I know this man, Monsieur. I have reason to believe that I have been closer to him than anyone else. By using my information, I can help the inspector and his men rescue this young lady before it is too late."

"You believe he would kill her?" The Inspector lifted his eyebrows, and the father rose to his feet, horrified at the words.

"I cannot say." I said grimly: "But if Erik wanted to kill her he would have done it swiftly and silently with his dreaded lasso." I shivered, remembering his crimes in my country: "But understand _this_. He is very dangerous. The most dangerous man I have ever met. Whatever he has planned for this girl she is undoubtedly in mortal peril!"

The Inspector chewed his lips grimly, taking in my words shrewdly.

"Can you be sure it is the right Erik we're looking for?"

"I am certain. I _know the mask._ _I know his ways._ This cannot be anyone else."

"_**This is a very grave situation. Action must be taken at once!" **_I thought anxiously

"Where will we find him?" The Inspector scratched his head: "We have no leads to go on!"

"He said that he owned 500 acres, three hours away from my house." Monsieur Arturi spoke loudly, grumpy at being removed from the conversation.

The inspector glanced incredulously at him: "Excuse me? What? Then why didn't you-"

"He lied!" Arturi thumped his fist on the desk so loudly that everyone in the room jumped again: "I searched and searched, pleading and asking everyone I met on the road if there was such a place he described. But to no avail. I tried to track the carriage tracks but there was nothing on the road! The beast lied!"

"We'll find her Monsieur," I vowed aloud, but my insides were churning. Erik's greatest talent was that he was elusive. He would have taken a great many precautions if he didn't want to be found. I could see this entire affair becoming bigger and wider every moment. Just as it had done in my home city, long, long ago.

"_**A girl…" **_I said softly, repeating the two words over and over again to myself. _What does this mean? What is happening? And why?_

"_**Erik."**_ I thought, gazing out of the window, into the sky above, which was blank of stars and full of darkness: "_**What in Allah's name are you doing?"**_


End file.
